The aftermath of surgery is a hard place–no matter how minor or major it was. It’s been over fourteen weeks for me and I’m still trying to wrap my head around all that took place. To say that I regret the decision is wrong. But if you ask me whether or not I’m okay with it–that’s a different story. That answer still remains to be seen.

In one sense, I’m okay because I know it was the right decision. There is no other way to say “it had to be done” yet the loss of what could’ve been and no longer exists as a possibility is a heavy weight to bear. It’s a weight I still can’t think of without being mournful in some way, either through tears or general depression, because I know there’s no going back. There is no changing the outcome. What was done is done. Even though that finality is difficult to accept, I know it needed to happen. I know it in my heart and in my head. I knew it in the curtained-off waiting room, while signing the forms, and being wheeled back hall to the table. I knew it talking to all the doctors and nurses beforehand and when speaking to them afterward as I looked at the photos they took of the mass they removed.

And just to be clear, I did have a choice. I could’ve refused and left everything as it was, but there were a lot of side effects going on and continual blood infusions can only go so far. It really wasn’t as much of a question of if but when. So, I don’t regret the decision. I don’t wish I could go back and change it. Do I wish it never happened? Definitely. Do I wish I had more time to investigate other options? Maybe. But I think the uncertainty that surrounds me right now is not so much of a true uncertainty but a sadness. It’s not regret as much as it’s a profound sadness for all that’s changed. And sadness, I think, will be my companion for awhile. Because this was one of those unchangeable things that couldn’t be avoided no matter how much I wished and prayed for that to happen.

Now, don’t get me wrong, God can still do miracles. I firmly believe that, although I often have a hard time believing for such things to happen in my life, especially right now. It’s one of those things that seem like it’s meant for someone else to experience but not me. Which, I know isn’t true, but that’s where I am right now.

So it is to the moving forward that I must look. It is to the act of the picking up the pieces and making something out of what is–and not what could’ve been–that must draw my effort. Without that focus my world would forever remain dark and gray. It would become a place of perpetual night. And that can’t be where I stay because that leads to a black hole of selfishness and defeat. The choice to move on and find the pinprick of sunlight that lies hidden within the clouds is my goal for now. It may be awhile before I find it, but if I keep looking–instead of giving up or getting bogged down by regret–I might just find it someday. That–at least, for now–is my prayer.